On sale at a stall of the Conservative party conference in Birmingham last autumn – alongside “little Iron Lady” baby bibs and £20 framed portraits of the party’s new leader in a pearl necklace – was the well-known black and white portrait of John Major in his round hipster glasses on a pillow. Once you had dodged past the tweed-suited delegates queuing for the grouse-shooting simulator, you could see the words: “What does the Conservative Party offer a working-class kid from Brixton?”
Answer? “They made him Prime Minister.”
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